That Stormy Night
by Chuffi4Harmony
Summary: Hi again! SO sorry for the ridiculously long wait between updates, but here is one! This is a sequel to my story The Kissing Gate. Please read and review!


I know I haven't updated in a really REALLY REALLY long time, but family comes first and my family is crazy. Most of the time it's a good thing and it DEFINITELY keeps me busy, but once in a while, it gets people hurt. In March, on the same day my older brother came home from college for his spring break, my baby sister was born and she doesn't quite sleep through the night yet, and as the oldest when my brother is at school, I am responsible for her most of the time. Sorry for ranting! I rambled on. But anyways, that's why I haven't been updating.

Also, if you have time, go to .com

It is the most heart wrenching story about this little girl who has Spinal Muscular Atrophy and she won't make it to 2 years old ;(

So, back to the story! Let's start over, again SOO sorry for the wait!

Hello! So AGAIN, I had another inspiration pounding at the back of my mind, so I had to post. It's raining really hard here and for some reason, inspiration always seems to hit when I'm either looking out the car window at night or when it's like a flash-flood. So here is my fic...

**That Stormy Night**

Oh and P.S. this is a sequel to my story **The Kissing Gate.**

**Please review!**

She had gotten worse since their kiss at Godric's Hallow. Or perhaps it was more that he had nearly died. It was as though every one of her fears had resurfaced and only gotten stronger. He tried to comfort her, but she would refuse his attempts, seemingly worried that they would fall into each other's arms and kiss again.

Lightening continued to crash relentlessly, getting dangerously near their little makeshift tent, making Hermione exceedingly nervous and jumpy. She was sitting with her legs in her arms, her back crouched over her overly-tense and slightly more bony than usual figure. If you looked at her face, she looked like she hadn't slept in days and had spent far too long crying. Which, if you had been anywhere near her for the past three days, was exactly what she was doing.

There was a huge clap of thunder a moment later, scaring her completely out of her wits. She jumped up and fled back into the tent as quickly as she could. On her way in, she bumped into Harry. Too petrified to pay any attention, she raced deeper inside.

"Hey-" Harry began, but, seeing the river of tears streaming from her eyes, he paused, but then gathered her in a hug. She shook violently in his arms and pressed herself nearer to him, needing so desperately the comfort and warmth of his steadily beating heart.

But she couldn't find it with that blasted locket clinging onto his neck and making her colder than she already was. Without thinking, she ripped the locket off of him and began to cry. Very confused and at a complete loss, Harry just held and waited for the tears to subside.

"I'm sorry," She said shakily, breaking away from his gentle hug, allowing herself to catch back up to reality. "I don't know what got into me quite honestly. I'm not usually scared of thunderstorms but it was so close to the tent and..." She trailed off and muttered something about not wanting to lose him too, and, vague as she may have been, Harry immediately understood.

"Hermione...," He tried desperately to string up a half-decent sentence. "He wasn't-he was mad at me, not you. He loves you. He was just fed up. And I know you are too. If you want to...you know...I'm sure he's not that far off." She shot him a hard stare, but he couldn't really catch what she meant by it.

"Harry, I'm not leaving you," She said simply, not exactly answering his question.

"But you want him." It wasn't a question, it was a statement. She barely nodded. "You don't want to be here," She nodded again, her eyes tearing up. "You want to leave?" Knowing she had to answer him, she sighed and did as he was silently asking.

"Yes," she murmured in barely over a whisper. For some reason, he appeared mortally offended even though he was expecting her answer. He concealed it in a moment however.

"'Night," he muttered, holding back a strong and unexpected urge to cry. What kind of wimp are you? You can't cry! He went outside to keep watch, still feeling slightly sick and more hurt than he probably should have been. He heard the springs of Hermione's bed creak from inside the tent, followed by a muffled sob. His emotions getting the better of him, he countered very rudely, the locket he had put back on having a lot to do with it.

"You can go! There's no one stopping you." He yelled at her. He heard the sobs becoming louder and louder until he heard the springs creak again, and turned around to see Hermione crying harder than he'd ever seen her cry, clutching tightly to the thin blanket and rocking back and forth. He saw her pull something out of her bag. It was a photograph in a frame that he guessed was her parents. At this, she sobbed even harder, and he began to feel so guilty he couldn't even take it. He never thought anyone could cry that hard, and he felt sick as he heard her start coughing, sounding as though she were about to puke.

He ran back inside the tent, grabbed every single blanket from his bed and wrapped it gently around her, tugged off the locket and threw it into the darkness, and pulled her into a hug.

She continued to bawl into his shoulder, the whole while not sure if she was imagining him whispering how sorry he was and that he never meant to hurt her; she hoped it was real. He couldn't help but realize how she seemed to be so vulnerable, not anything like her normal personality. She'd always been so strong and brave and now she was so...despondent, so upset. He'd seen her cry before, but never like this. It made him want to pull his head off, it hurt him so bad. The worst part was that he knew it was all his fault. He conjured some more blankets and pulled them over her shaking form. It seemed to take hours for her to calm down.

"D-d-did you mean that-t? D-d-do you want me t-t-to g-g-go?" She stuttered, still trembling, but at least calm enough to speak at all.

"No," He said in a voice comparable to that of a mother hushing their half year old daughter. She nodded into his chest and continued to sniffle, clearly still hurt. She fell asleep within seconds. He lowered her down gently until her back was touching the creaky mattress. He couldn't believe how innocent and frightened and small she looked, all curled up with tearstains all over her face.

He magically cleaned her up and hesitated a bit, deciding whether or not to peck her on the cheek, and, feeling so guilty about what he had said, he decided against it, knowing she should have the right to know and allow him to do that if she wanted to, considering how she had reacted to their kiss earlier.

Instead, he took her hand in his and squeezed it lightly. Hardly able to contain himself, he forced himself to walk off after pulling a few extra blankets onto her, assuring she would be warm. Looking outside into the gloomy thunder, he decided one night off the watch couldn't do much harm, and, scooping up the locket, he curled up in his own cot and fell asleep.

Sorry it's a little sad :( but it starts off the story! Thanks for reading and **PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW!** (even though you're probably still mad at me for leaving you hanging for half a year!)


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